


Teach My Feet To Fly

by sabinelagrande



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Community: percy_ficathon, Family, Incest, M/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-18
Updated: 2006-12-18
Packaged: 2017-10-04 11:27:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabinelagrande/pseuds/sabinelagrande
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"December fifteenth found Percy on a street in Paris that he didn't even know the name of."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Teach My Feet To Fly

December fifteenth found Percy on a street in Paris that he didn't even know the name of. He could have found the sign at any point, and the greater part of him wanted to, but that wasn't the point of the Endeavour. The point was to get lost, and he was doing a damned poor job of it.

Somewhere near the Palais de Chaillot, he threw the cheap translating device he'd purchased into the gutter. There was nothing wrong with it, other than the fact that it kept telling him what people were saying to him, and he just really didn't feel like listening.

He'd taken three days off from work. Not that he had wanted to – Scrimgeour had gone on a kick about work-related stress and promptly sent home anyone who hadn't taken a day in the last six months. Percy had owled Penelope, who – if the lack of response and offended act Hermes was putting on were to be trusted – wasn't talking to him again. It was well enough; he wasn't exactly feeling up to dealing with her anyway.

So there he was in Paris, waiting for whatever was coming to come, listening to the crunch of the refrozen city snow under his boots, lost in his own thoughts.

It was a long time gone, before anybody had the good sense to tell them it was wrong. Sometimes it made Percy shudder to think what they might have done if – there wasn't an end on that thought, just a vague feeling of dread.

Percy moved into Charlie's room after Ron was born. He used to climb into Charlie's bed at night, snuggling up next to him. If he was awake, Percy would whisper that he'd had a bad dream, and Charlie always believed him. He'd just drop a sleepy kiss on Percy's forehead and fall back to soft snoring, pulling Percy up close to him.

There was something right about it all. Charlie was hard in all the places Percy was soft, all compact and muscular where Percy was long and lean. In the dark, with his arms around Charlie, everything was good and whole in Percy's world. Charlie meant peace and safety when nothing else could. Full stop.

Then Charlie went to Hogwarts, and it suddenly wasn't okay anymore. He'd tried to crawl back into his bed and been denied flat out, as if he'd never done it at all. Percy had a long cry in the broom shed and then tried to forget about it, which hadn't worked. With all the passion in his childish heart, he swore deep down that he was never going to get that close to anybody again.

He'd gone off to Hogwarts and thrown himself into schoolwork, learning how to hold his knowledge up like a shield. It was easier and easier to distract himself, letting everything else just roll off of him. And the more he wore it, the more his mask became his real face, until there was nothing left behind it.

Then he'd gone off to the Ministry and thrown himself into that, too. Somewhere in all of this, he'd learned why loving Charlie like he had was wrong. He understood, blamed himself, convinced himself he was going to Hell – but he was far past the point where he could forgive. The rational part of him tried to scream that there was nothing wrong, that there was no sin in any of it. He hated himself some days for blaming his problems on it, but it had become his best defense.

And then he'd thrown away his family altogether – his last vulnerability – and that was that.

All of it wouldn't leave him, no matter how far he went. So he kept walking, wishing he could outrun himself.

\--

Christmas found Percy in a bar in London, trying desperately to get drunk.

It was his fault he'd gotten dragged home by Scrimgeour. He was the one who'd brought Potter up in the first place, and that was all it took to get those gears turning. It had been such a bloody stupid idea, anyway; Percy was fully aware that he'd gotten off light.

And Charlie was there, which only made it harder, pushing Percy deeper into self-loathing. The more he thought about it, the stupider he felt. People who blamed everything on their pasts were idiots, weren't they? Why was he still blaming himself for doing nothing? It was all too much to unravel. He shook his head at nothing and drank off the rest of his beer.

A stocky, red headed man slid onto the stool next to him, and Percy wished, not for the first time, he would just evaporate.

"Where's Penelope?" Charlie asked, motioning at the barman for two more.

"What do you care?"

"I don't."

"I don't either."

"Careful, you're dangerously close to developing a sense of humor."

Percy scowled into his pint. "Why are you here?"

"Because you're still my brother, you twat," Charlie told him. "And even though you're a complete bastard, I'm not going to let you spend another Christmas alone."

"Great."

It was a few minutes before either of them spoke. "I'm sorry about lunch," Charlie said, breaking the silence. Percy waved him off.

More minutes passed, both of them drinking silently, nothing to say.

"I never stopped loving you, you know," Charlie told him finally, knowing he wouldn't listen. "None of us did, except maybe Ron, but we both know he's a complete berk." Percy failed to laugh, and Charlie sighed. "You can come back whenever you like."

Percy shook his head and looked up into Charlie's eyes. "No, I really can't."

Charlie shrugged. Standing, he took a few bills out of his pocket and threw them on the bar. "Merry Christmas."

\--

January third found Percy outside of a little town just north of the Bega. He hugged his threadbare overcoat tighter around his shoulders, following the intermittent plumes of flame to the camp.

Percy resisted the urge to give himself a stupid ultimatum- he wasn't going to turn back just because Charlie was wearing red, or because he didn't turn at the right moment.

In the end, Percy turned back because he just couldn't remember why he'd come in the first place.

Charlie, watching from the window, could only shake his head and go back to work.


End file.
